Dinner for Two
by msgrits
Summary: Grissom and Sara run into one another while they are on dates with other people. Smut ensues. GSR Complete


**A/N Thanks to Joan and Cybrokat for beta work. I guess this is smut lite? Perhaps a smattering of smut?**

**Enjoy and oh leave a review they make me happy. **

**Grissom and Sara run into one another while they are on dates with other people. Oh yeah I know nothing.**

His name was Pierre. He wore a beret yet he managed to make it look good.

Her name was Becky but she was the antithesis of a Becky with her long limbs, muscular arms, coal colored hair and tragic mouth. She spoke with an accent that Sara loathed. She said she was Moroccan. Sara liked to refer to her as Whoroccan.

Grissom thought Pierre always looked as if he were smelling something foul.

Sara tried not to think about Becky.

Grissom didn't want to do it but Becky insisted that they join them when they saw Pierre and that "delightful Sara" on the other side of the restaurant. He rolled his eyes and thought for the at least the 500 millionth time in his life that he should have listened to Catherine.

Sara was not delightful. She was intense, smart, funny, strange, a head case and nearly perfect but she was not delightful. Why would anyone call Sara delightful? Why was he dating a woman that even used words like delightful?

For an instant he wondered if Becky had a hard on Sara. He decided not to think about it because the last image he needed in his head was of Becky and Sara doing anything but shaking hands. Becky liked sex-a lot of it. Grissom had succumbed on a few occasions. Her charms, while considerable, held little interest after the initial bloom of passion.

He should have broken up with her but who was he to leave a beautiful woman. Patience was indeed his virtue. Becky would eventually leave and he hoped it would be soon, though she seemed immune to his practiced aloofness.

Pierre nearly knocked over his water glass as he rose to greet them. "Dr. Greesome," he said twirling his mustache.

What self respecting Frenchman would dine at the Paris casino? He'd chosen the restaurant believing it would be the one place he would not run into Sara and Pepe Le Peu. Las Vegas was big but it didn't seem big enough to avoid Sara and her new boyfriend.

Becky and Grissom sat down at the he table. Grissom and Sara ordered stiff drinks. Sara and Becky exchanged lipstick colors. Pierre and Grissom did the same with golf tips.

Grissom crushed his glass in his large hand when Pierre kissed Sara's diamond studded lobe. Hovering between incredulity and rage, he took his scotch soaked hand to the men's restroom.

After ten minutes Becky clucked, "I hope that Grissy is okay. Perhaps I should go and to help Grissy.""Grissy?" Sara sputtered, trying not to look at the bloody tablecloth as the latex gloved waiter removed it.

Becky giggled. The movement shook her small, beautiful cleavage. Sara decided against throwing up.

"Yes I call him Grissy. He says he hates it but he doesn't seem to mind when you know..." Becky and Pierre laughed.

Sara fled to the bathroom; a small sliver of glass was too tempting. The opulent door of the woman's room called but Sara ignored it.

She called him out to him as she pushed the men's bathroom door open. "Grissy? You in here?"

He seemed to have picked the last bit of glass out of his hand. A steady stream of water washed the blood down the sink. Two white napkins stood on the edge ready for bandage duty.

"What was that?" Sara asked.

If he looked up he would see her reflection in the mirror. Grissom had little use for it at this point. He kept his head down.

"What?"

"What? What are you playing at? You drag your girlfriend over to my table and then you make a scene?"

"I did not make a scene. I had an accident and she's not my girlfriend."

"You broke a glass in your hand because the guy I'm seeing kissed me."

"Why does everything have to be about you? So you are just seeing the guy but Becky has to be my girlfriend? She really likes you, you know." With that he turned off the water and examined his hand. Sara wanted to bury her 100 dollar dangerously high heel in his completely adorable backside.

"So you're saying that it had nothing to do with me."

"I'm saying-" He had never been a good liar. "I'm saying that it doesn't matter."

"Maybe I should go out there and create a scene since it's all about me." Sara shot back folding her arm across a chest.

Grissom had just finished putting one of the napkins in place when he spun around and Sara Sidle had never been so unnerved in her entire life. He advanced, forcing Sara to mold her black clad body into the matching door

Licking his lips he raked his eyes across her face. He ran his bloody thumb across her lips.

"You want to create scene Sara? 'Cause I can do that sweetheart. I can make this whole double date foolishness completely memorable for Pierre, Becky, the entire restaurant. Why don't I go out there and tell every one of those uptight 100 dollar bottle of wine drinking snobs that you, Sara Sidle, haunt me. That you gave me one night a long time ago and I can't even look at another woman without comparing her to you. That my life has become a waking nightmare and the only way I can mark time is with Sara and without Sara. What do you think of that sweetheart?

I could tell them that you don't just complete me, you create me. That my life will never and has never been the same since you walked into it and the thought of you with any other man makes me want to kill him. That I decided to let you go because it was the only way I could keep you. Is that what you want me to tell them?"

His lips assaulted her, hot tears running into their mouths.

"I-don't-want-you-to-tell them-" Her words came out in desperate gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

"I'm telling you." Rough lips created an ant trail of tiny bites along her plunging neckline as he pulled down one shoulder of her black blouse and released a perfect breast.

"Want you so bad. Love you. N-n-eed you," he murmured as his pants dropped around his ankles and Sara reached for him.

"You left me," he accused.

"You made me go. I-" The word was in a low moan.

He slipped inside of her. He marveled at how wet she was. How easily he found his pace again. "Don't ever leave me again.

They came in a storm of wordless sanctification. Grissom contemplated her for several seconds as he reluctantly eased his body from her.

"Don't ever leave me again," he murmured against her swollen mouth.

"Take me home."

END


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